No More Heroes
by Beedle the Bard
Summary: While Harry hunts horcruxes, Hogwarts needs a new champion. This is Neville's story.
1. Remembrall

Remembrall

"_No, Lestrange!" Frank Longbottom yelled, stumbling as he tried again to break into the swirling circle of cloaked figures. The curve of their shield flickered and vanished. Filled with hope Frank pressed forward but even as he realised his mistake the shield rippled and pulsed flinging him away._

_As his back struck the cabinet with a crunch of splitting wood and breaking glass Frank glimpsed the writhing form of his wife, fingers digging deep in the pile of the carpet as the Death Eaters struck again and again. He lost sight of her as he hit the floor and an avalanche of shattered ornaments and souvenirs cascaded into his lap, a broken history of their short life together._

_Oblivious to the tears that streamed down his cheeks he swept the debris away. In a single movement he was on his feet, knuckles whitening as his grip tightened around his wand. The weight of power unleashed in the room caused the house to shudder from the foundations to the chimney stacks and that power infected Frank now; teeth clenched, the muscles of his jaw were taught enough to snap the bone as he advanced._ "Bombarda_!" he screamed throwing himself forward with the spell._

_Framing the tableau the protective shield cast by the Death Eaters rippled and pulsed then, as the bolt of light collided with the shield it rippled and glinted into glassy mass that cracked and splintered and hummed. The sound grew louder and louder ebbing into a burst of black flame that sent shards of obsidian flying outward._

_Seizing his chance Frank dived forward ignoring each razor shard that sliced at his skin._

"_Alice," he sobbed as he fell to his knees and pulled his wife into his arms, "Alice, I'm here, its alright."_

"_Frank," she croaked reaching to touch his bloodied face, "I ca …"_

"_How touching," a woman interrupted. At the same time the air in the room became dark and still, "Rodolphus," she crooned, laying her hand on the shoulder of the taller figure that moved into place beside her, "would you do as much for me?"_

"_To death and beyond, Bellatrix," a hooded head tilted and a deep voice, prickling with cold passion replied but her attention was drawn elsewhere. "Rodolphus, look!" she squealed pointing at a bassinet that stood near the crackling fire._

"_Later, Bellatrix." her husband replied. "We are unlikely to forget with the noise the brat is making."_

"_Very well," she grumbled. "I'm getting carried away with the romance of it all!" Bellatrix clapped her hands together then threw her arms wide and skipped forward giggling as she smiled without mirth at the wand that Longbottom levelled at her as she approached. "Feeling weak, Frank? May I call you Frank?" she asked, leaning toward him. Without waiting for a reply she straightened and continued, "Your lovely wife appears to have lost her tongue - why don't you be a good chap and tell us where the Dark Lord is?"_

_Frank Longbottom's arms tightened around the trembling body of his wife, shielding her as best he could from their tormentors. "I don't know!" he cried again, "He's gone! We thought you were all gone!"_

"_But that's exactly what you would say if you did know. Come, Frank, be reasonable. I am being reasonable." She paused, allowing him time to listen as the screams of the child reached a crescendo. "Crucio!"_

_As the curse hit Frank reared, his wand propelled away by the movement. Alice fell to the floor. Frank collapsed on top of her, their bodies convulsed in unison as the Death Eaters prolonged their attack then in a confusion of screams and sobs they shuddered into silence; a grotesque mockery of the act of love._

"_Tickles a bit, doesn't it?" Bellatrix remarked, "Was it easy for you to watch your wife bear all that pain while you gallantly refused to help us? Does it increase your sense of pride to resist?" she questioned, "You could have saved her. It disgusts me that we share blood and that you shamed it when Dark Lord gave you the chance to join him; you shamed me!"_

_Turning away she sighed, the tip of her wand between her teeth. She nibbled it as she paced between the Death Eaters and their prey, "I don't have much time, Frank. I know you have already alerted your pathetic little friends and that we have, what, two, three minutes remaining? You think that if you can hold out that long we will leave you be but Frank, you don't know us very well after all. We will never be gone." Her last words were little more than a breath._

_She turned then, wand ready and each of the gang of four joined her, "Crucio!" the force of four unforgivable curses combined crumpled the Longbottoms._

_Bellatrix shrieked in delight as she tore her wand away. "The Dark Lord will return," she screamed, as she left her companions to continue their work. Twirling to the beat of pain she reached the bassinet. Tilting her head and smiling Bellatrix reached downward. With both hands she lifted the wailing child until his eyes were level with hers._

"Neville isn't it?" she asked, playfully tossing the boy in the air, once, twice then on the third she caught him by one arm and turned in a single movement. "Would you like to play with mummy and daddy, Neville?"

_With the boy dangling form one hand, banging against her hip as she swayed and her wand held in the other Bellatrix danced across the room, her feet crunching carelessly over the detritus of battle to her companions who pulled back their wands, easing their torture._

"_Last chance, Longbottom," Bellatrix taunted as she hurled the child into the air and caught his fall with a spell, levitating him above his parents._

"_Neviiiiiiiiiii …" Alice clawed upward to be crushed down by an unspoken curse._

"_You're too late," Frank rasped his last act of defiance against the Dark Lord._

"_Finish them!" Bellatrix commanded._

_A barrage of curses hit the Longbottoms. Bellatrix drew back her wand and span round as the first of many figures whooshed into being. "Flee!" she shrieked to the others as she disapparated._

_The spell that held the child aloft was broken and before the Aurors could reach him he thudded to the floor head first and bounced to rest by the shuddering shells that had been his parents._

As he watched, the red glow faded. Neville didn't know whether to thank Luna for the experimental charm that she had performed on her birthday gift to him that year, a new remembrall. Since it had arrived by owl it had proven itself more than a toy, it was a gateway to his past. In a few weeks he had learned a lot but with that knowledge came the agony of understanding and the realisation that he was powerless to influence events that might be better forgotten. Neville stuffed the remembrall into his pocket and turned his attention to the platform.

The vibrancy typical of the wizarding world on parade was diminished, the usual buzz that characterised the ritual excursion to King's Cross to drop of young witches and wizards subdued. Parents and families did not linger but saw their charges directly onto the Hogwarts Express before returning with haste to the Muggle world fearing their very presence in wizarding London might draw curious eyes and expose them to unwelcome scrutiny.

Resting his cheek against the cold window pane, Neville saw the Lovegoods emerge through the wall. Dressed in palest green Luna sauntered through the shuffling crowd dragging a paisley patterned shopping trolley behind her. Her father followed, pushing a station cart that bore her trunk. Neville smiled as they came closer to his carriage, the only people on the platform unruffled by the atmosphere, perhaps because they constantly entertained the belief that conspiracies were afoot and one more could make little difference.

"Hello Neville," Luna said as she waved with both hands to her father on the platform. As she propped her shopping trolley beneath the window Neville saw that Luna's coat was made up of hundreds of feathery green petals that floated as she moved. He was reminded of _felicitas digitalis_, a river bound fern that once pulped had uplifting properties but a giant walking specimen; Neville felt the twitch of a smile pull at his lips at the thought.

"Is no one else here?" Luna asked peering around as though expecting the collective population of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor to pop their heads out from under the seats like an overnight mushroom crop.

"Gran heard from Mrs Finnegan that who heard from Seamus that Dean wasn't coming back, same with the Creeveys," Neville volunteered as Luna took the seat opposite, "I don't think that Hermione will be coming and Gran says that Harry hasn't been seen all summer. He's gone missing along with his Muggles," he added, sadly.

"Really?" Luna asked, "I saw Barny at Ron's brother's wedding, we live just over the hill from them. He married that veela, you know."

Puzzled, Neville sat forward resting his elbows on his knees. "Who is Barny?" he asked kindly.

"Luna!" Ginny Weasley scolded from the doorway, "Talk about keeping a secret!" She slid the door closed behind her and flopped into the seat next to Neville.

"Well he did marry that veela," Luna protested with a winsome smile.

"Harry?" Neville asked.

"Nope, Bill," Ginny explained, "Remember Fleur? They finally took their oaths, set up house together now. I think mum likes having him nearer home too, and she's even grown fond of phlegm."

"I remember," Neville replied tartly. "Tell me about Barny?"

Luna and Ginny exchanged a glance and burst out laughing. "Barny is Harry, Neville," Luna said as if that was explanation enough.

"It was safer," Ginny added. "He made a good Weasley though!"

"Where's Ron?" Neville asked, aware that neither Ginny nor Luna was about to tell him any details. .

"Ill with spattergroit!" Ginny grinned as Luna shuffled toward the far end of the carriage muttering something under her breath, "At least that's what Dad claims. I don't believe it for a minute, there's not a wheeze that can get past me. If Ron is in that bed then I am a nargle's uncle!"

If she was convinced Luna did not show it; Neville suspected that she might indeed think that Ginny was a nargle's uncle, though he didn't say it. Luna remained by the window and drew out her wand and began flicking it in odd concentric movements in the air before her.

Ginny twisted in her seat towards Neville and tucked one leg under her. "They've gone you know," she said quietly, "Harry told me last year he wasn't coming back and they've gone with him – something Dumbledore asked him to do. Mum will have a fit when she gets home, I feel a bit sorry for Dad having to put up with her yelling. She'll blame him when really it was my brothers who arranged it."

"Are you ok, Ginny?" Neville asked, tentatively putting his hand over hers. He did not pull it away as she raised her gaze to meet his. Staring at him were the eyes of someone who had slept little in recent days and then fitfully.

"I will be," she swallowed, "You're a good friend, Neville."

"We all need those at the moment," he replied. Apparently content with her incantations, Luna had moved back along the long seat, "If you need to talk, Ginny …" he finished.

"I know." Ginny forced a smile then stood and slid open the door of the compartment. "They're cutting it fine," she remarked peering down the narrow corridor.

"Who are?" Luna asked. Neville stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets and leaned back along the empty seat.

"Everyone, half of the compartments are empty …"

With his eyes closed, Neville's attention drifted from the chatter which muted into a pleasant background murmur.

Everything has changed, he thought, its been changing since the fifth year.

His hand brushed over his remembrall and onto a cold flat coin. Dumbledore's Army, he recalled wistfully as metal grated over metal, and now he's gone.

Images flickered through Neville's mind; the flight from Hogwarts, sneaking into the ministry of magic, a close encounter with the Death Eaters, all past now. But Dumbledore was dead. Hogwarts was the domain of his murderer.

"_You must go back Neville," his Grandmother said waving the letter in the air, "there is no choice. The most we can do right now is keep our heads down and hope the Potter boy comes through."_

"_My father wouldn't have returned," he replied defiantly. "he'd've found a way to help!"_

"_You are not your father." Mrs Longbottom said. "And If you have any respect for your parents you will get on that train tomorrow!"_

"_I know I'm no Auror, Gran," he replied steeling himself for a fight," but I might do some good here."_

"_Do you think I can't look after myself?" she questioned, sucking air through her teeth, "Do I look that old to you?"_

"_No Gran, I just don't think …"_

"_That's the point. You don't think!" she decreed, "Do you think you will be allowed to stay here? Have some sense, boy. There is no longer any choice, I have lived through this before, where did making a stand get them? The Prewetts? The McKinnons? It got them killed. If you know who hadn't been destroyed do you think we would be here now?"_

"_They stood up for what they believed in, Gran, all of them – that's what counts."_

"_Tell that to Frank," Mrs Longbottom replied, "tell that to Alice. Youthful ideals are not enough."_

"_I know that they would have done something about it, whatever the risk!"_

"_You can't know what it was like, Neville. It is only just beginning and it will get so much worse. Listen to me," a note of pleading in her tone._

"_I was part of Dumbledore's Army, Gran!" Neville countered, "We won then, we can win again. Giving in is not right! We can fight, we …" he paused as he noticed the tears building in the wrinkled corners of her eyes. "Who's to say what is right anymore. Albus is gone, Neville," she sobbed, "Frank is …"_

_Neville shuffled his feet uncomfortably, a formidable woman, Neville had seen his grandmother angry; faced with opposition she drew herself up and savaged her opponent with her tongue, her wand or her_ _handbag, sometimes all three. He had never seen her give up, never seen her back down. He had never seen her afraid._

"_Neville! Bunk up!"_

He blinked, "Sss, wha …" and slid off the seat landing heavily on the floor.

"Sleeping on the job, Longbottom!" Antony Goldstein accused slipping into the spot that Neville had vacated. From the floor Neville saw that the compartment was crammed with students, Lavender Brown, Romilda Vane and Hannah Abbott squeezed on one seat with Luna and Parvati and Padma Patil and Susan Bones jostling for space on the other. As Hannah helped Neville to his feet Wayne Hopkins and Zacharias Smith pushed in and took his space. Ginny was standing in the open doorway with Terry Boot.

"Is everywhere full?" Neville asked nudging Luna's trolley aside. He leaned against the window as behind him the scenery began to change as the train began to pull slowly away from the platform.

"No," Hopkins replied, "We wanted to see if he'd chicken out."

"Speak for yourself!" someone muttered as Ginny snapped, "Who?"

"Lover boy," Smith responded nastily, "Good ol' Harry Potter."

"I thought he'd be here too," Padma said softly unable to disguise her disappointment.

"Coward," Hopkins muttered, getting to his feet, "he's done a runner. C'mon Zach."

"You're wrong," Vane protested, "Harry wouldn't!"

"No, Romilda, he wouldn't," Ginny concurred stepping forward to face Hopkins. "and if that's what you think, kindly drag your worthless backside out of here before I hex it across the next carriage."

"Come off it. Weasley," Wayne retorted, "Granger I can understand but your brother and Potter?"

"Ron is ill," Ginny said, "Spattergroit." she allowed a little extra spittle to fly from her lips as she spat the word. Macmillan stepped back. Ginny smiled and pulled her hand through her hair, "You were talking about cowards, Ernie?"

"Is that so?" in the excitement, nobody had noticed the new arrivals, not even Neville who was facing the doorway. Malfoy pushed past Terry Boot, and none too particular about whose toes were trodden on, Crabbe and Goyle followed him into the compartment. "What's that smell, Goyle?" he asked, "I think there's a blood traitor in here."

Tight lipped Ginny turned to face them.

"I thought so," Malfoy continued as she reached for her wand, "You know you ought to think carefully about whose side you're on Hopkins," he added with a thin smile.

"We were just leaving," Wayne replied, "Zach?"

Without another word Wayne Hopkins and Zacharias Smith squeezed by the Slytherins and left the compartment.

"They know which way the cauldron is stirred," Malfoy observed. He looked over Ginny's head as if he wasn't there, "You ought to give it some thought too, Longbottom," Malfoy said without enthusiasm.

"What do you want?" Neville asked standing up straight. His gaze fell on the badge pinned to Malfoy's robes that proclaimed him Head Boy as it glinted and faded in the changing light.

"Not that its any of your business, Longbottom, I smelled bad blood and came to investigate." he shrugged, "But it was just the usual stink of misfits, blood traitors and lunatics" he paused, "Mother tells me there's good blood in you somewhere, though I'm damned if I can see it."

"We could look," suggested Goyle drawing out his wand.

Malfoy glanced over his shoulder and nodded, "There's a thought." he said, his lips splitting into a malevolent grin.

"First one he's ever had," muttered Ginny.

"Her too," Malfoy said jerking his thumb in her direction.

Crabbe shoved Ginny toward Neville.

She fell, bouncing off Luna's trolley into Neville. He steadied her as he drew out his wand.

"Get out, Malfoy," he said

Malfoy blinked then his pale gaze hardened. "I beg your pardon." he said in disbelief as Crabbe and Goyle drew in close behind him.

"Get out," Neville repeated.

"Now," Terry Boot said, joining him.

One by one the others followed, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw alike, drawing their wands and standing with difficulty in the crowded compartment until the Slytherins were surrounded.

"Later then," Malfoy said indifferently, "but then there'll be no-one to save you. No chums, no champion of losers and mudbloods to run to. Dumbo's dead. Beaten by a better wizard and you'll go the same way."

As Neville stared at Malfoy's thin washed out face he wondered what it would feel like to draw back his wand and curse him. That woman was Malfoy's aunt, he knew where she was, how could he not. His pulse quickened, each beat growing louder and louder in his head; it would be justice, he reasoned, wipe that smirk off his face, to give him a reason to remember the name Longbottom.

Before he could act Malfoy turned and shoved past the remnants of Dumbledore's Army followed closely by Crabbe and Goyle who made an extra effort to knock into everyone they passed. Ginny moved across the floor and slid the door shut with slam. "I bet that git sent the whole summer rehearsing that little speech," she said.

"You should have said that," Luna said from her corner.

"Thanks, Luna," Ginny snorted, "I'd never have thought of using a witty retort to their faces, I usually prefer to say them afterwards."

"You're welcome" Luna smiled.

"The way of things to come," Neville said to no one in particular, "Gran was right, there's nothing we can do except keep our heads down."

Lavender and Parvati nodded, "we should go," Parvati said. As they left Padma and Romilda Vane joined them.

"Let us know if you hear anything about Harry," she said as she left.

"You'll be the first to know," Ginny replied though Neville doubted her sincerity.

"Its just not the right time for heroes," Terry said as he, Hannah, Justin and Susan left.

"He's right there," Ginny said slumping in to one corner, "Harry's gone, Dumbledore is dead, a murderer is free to ruin Hogwarts, the ministry is in chaos, Malfoy Head Boy. This is just the beginning."

"No Ginny, he's wrong," Neville said feeling a little queasy now that the adrenalin was subsiding, "This is exactly the time for heroes, only there aren't any here."


	2. New Order

New Order

Hard driven rain, goaded by the wind cascaded from the enchanted ceiling of the great hall. It petered to nothing before it reached the students, many of them chilled and damp from its lash during their recent journey from Hogsmeade. It was nothing like the sky that had filled it six years ago when Neville had first arrived. That night it had been a dark sky that twinkled with the promises of wonders to come.

Neville and Ginny found seats beside Seamus Finnegan and Lavender Brown who sat opposite. "He's on the run," he told them in a whisper, "can't prove his blood status so he buggered off. Mam went berserk when told her I'd go with him,"

"Poor Dean," Lavender said, "imagine making that choice."

"Between living in the wild and going to Azkaban?" Ginny said, "I think I know what I'd choose."

Neville's gaze wandered, first to the teachers table which stood unoccupied on its dais, guarded by the straight backed chairs behind, then to the Ravenclaw table where Luna sat, serene among knots of anxious faces.

At the Hufflepuff table Wayne Hopkins was holding an old newspaper in the air and loudly proclaiming that he had been suspicious of Harry all along; "Wanted for questioning about the death of Albus Dumbledore, it says here. An innocent child would have nothing to fear, said a Ministry source who wished to remain nameless. If Potter were to come forward he could clear his name, every day he runs the case against him grows."

"One way ticket to Azkaban," Seamus said glaring at Ernie, "Idiot."

"Does anyone still believe that guff?" Ginny grumbled, "its not like it's the first time the Prophet made up rubbish."

"People have to believe something, even if it is a lie that makes everything else easier."

"You're a great comfort, Neville," Ginny said insincerely. She turned toward the end of the hall where the small door behind the teacher's table creaked open reluctantly. "look!"

Conversation bubbled to a murmur and to dry expectant silence. But it was not the Headmaster that emerged, not even a teacher. Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson stepped through, in black robes lined with emerald silk. Behind them came the house Prefects in pairs, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff then Gryffindor; the Head Boy and Head Girl resplendent at the lead of their entourage. The door banged closed behind them.

Neville caught Ginny's cocked eyebrow and open mouth and imagined his own face had a similar look of surprise as the train split up and each pair joined their House.

"Collins," Ginny said, "that should be Ron."

Thoughtfully, Neville watched as Ritchie Collins and Demelza Robins found seats with their own friends, "Wouldn't it be normal to wait until Ron recovered, rather than making someone else prefect?" he asked, "it feels like they think he won't recover I'd have thought McGonagall ..."

"I think Snape would've sacked Ron anyway even if he hadn't gone … been ill."

For a second time attention was drawn to the small door. This time it swung open as if on newly oiled hinges admitting the staff into the hall. As they entered, the Head Boy and Girl along with the House Prefects rose to their feet; one by one the students followed their lead, first a drip here and there and then the rest fell in as a wave Neville along with them. The teachers took their places behind their chairs and gazed dispassionately over the assembly.

As they waited Neville picked out the tall pointed hat of Professor McGonagall near the end of the table her hands gripping the back of the chair, not for support Neville thought, but for self control. By the time the Headmaster entered end swept along behind the table Neville was shuffling his feet impatient. The Headmaster's chair, so recently warmed by Dumbledore drew back and Snape lowered himself into it. Only then did the teachers take their places

As Neville sat he glanced at Ginny but her attention was fixed as far as her could tell from her profile, on Snape. Neville was drawn to the places either side of Snape; not raised as high as the Headmaster's chair, but elevated above the rest, they remained empty..

"Some nerve," Ginny said in a low tone, "Can you imagine Dumbledore making an entrance like that?"

"He wouldn't have to," Neville replied, trying not to move his lips

A moment later the large double doors banged open, framed in the doorway were a strangely matched pair; a short wizard, his features reminiscent of a sock stuffed with cold porridge then shaped into the semblance of a human face by someone who had only read about humans in books and a tall bony witch who Neville suspected could conceal herself by turning sideways behind the base of a quidditch hoop. They were both garbed in flowing deep green robes.

"The Carrows," Neville surmised remembering the Daily Prophet story.

Ginny looked at him, "Death Eaters," she said.

Side by side they processed down the great hall, the pale first years following behind them.

"Half as many as we were," Seamus observed and Neville thought he saw the woman's gaze flicker sideways as she passed.

The Carrows stepped on to the dais and looked down on the first years gathered below them. Raising their wands they summoned the Sorting Hat and a stool which popped into view with blue flash. The first years gasped as they appeared though whether in awe at the old hat or in surprise at the display of magic Neville could not tell.

Flanked by the Carrows the Sorting Hat straightened on its stool and began to sing;

There came a day in times of old  
When those once joined were parted,  
Attend my friends and lend your ears  
I'll tell you how it started.

The greatest of the age they were,  
Witches and wizards all,  
Together they, established roots  
For Hogwarts, rising walls.

Strong though they were these magi four,  
Together they were better,  
And each new charge they welcomed in  
Was summoned with a letter.

Ravenclaw chose the quick and witty,  
Hufflepuff the true,  
Gryffindor the bold of heart,  
And Slytherin the shrewd.

They dwelled together in these walls,  
Teaching all who came  
Until one day they came to blows  
Each of them some way to blame.

They argued, "she's not bold enough",  
"Not wit enough for me,"  
"Too weak, she'll not survive the work,"  
No heart, not spark, no loyalty.

But what a state when Founders three  
Were lost as what to do?  
To Slytherin they turned  
As one they said, "This one's for you."

Tell me Godric, tell me true  
Said Salazar to he,  
Why champion the Muggle's cause  
Yet say she's not for thee?

Said Gryffindor to Slytherin,  
We have no place for her,  
By our agreement you must stand,  
To duty, must concur.

A storm both deep and bitter grew,  
And raged through day and night,  
Proud Gryffindor, proud Slytherin  
Would not give up their fight.

Nor would dear sweet Helga yield,  
Stubborn as she was,  
And Ravenclaw knew better  
Than any other, of course.

Enough, cried Slytherin one night  
I'm gone at break of dawn,  
Your folly will destroy us all  
I'll not become your pawn.

When daylight came they gathered  
For one last act of power  
Then took the hat from Godric's head  
The gift of choice they did endower.

The deed was done, the friendship severed  
A sorting hat created  
But Slytherin gave a parting shot  
His love turned now to hatred.

Once Friends, he said, I curse your bones.  
Each and every one,  
The very thing you hold most dear  
Will wither and fade, be gone.

Rowena, with your head you think  
Eschewing soul and passion,  
You'll lie alone the way you live,  
Heart broken in your coffin.

Helga, thinking you're apart,  
With energy unbridled,  
Your line will dwindle and become  
Louche, greedy, fat and idle.

He said at last to Godric,  
Blinded by pride you were  
The cause of all that is to come,  
The pain of those who suffer.

He vanished then and left them  
With nought but Hat in hand  
The final bond to save the school  
That's me, and here I stand.

"Is it just me or did the Hat just blame Gryffindor for the Founder's break up?" Ginny asked through the broken crackling applause that rewarded the Sorting Hat's effort.

"No, Its not just you," Neville replied running a fingernail across the raised grain of the table. "Is that the real truth, then? Or is it being careful?"

"You're saying the Hat is afraid?" Ginny snorted.

"Why not?" Neville reasoned, "It is the one link with all four of the Founders. What's to stop Snape throwing it away or burning it or something?"

"Silence!" The voice of Alecto Carrow cut through the whispers, "The sorting will commence."

"Its like they want to go there!" Ginny whispered as four in succession were sorted into Slytherin.

"Maybe," Neville replied as the next was announced to be Ravenclaw. Two more Slytherins followed, three Hufflepuffs, two Ravenclaws.

"About time, "Seamus muttered as the first new Gryffindor was chosen, "Not exactly a trend is it?" he asked no one in particular as Brydon, Michael joined the Gryffindor table. The next three first years were spread among the other houses.

It took two more Slytherins and a Hufflepuff before the last two first years, Prendergast, Montague and Prendergast, Hortensia, a brother and sister joined Gryffindor.

"Pathetic," Lavender said from across the table.

"Feeling unpopular?" Ginny asked.

"Aren't you?"

Before Neville could affirm that he was, Professor Snape was on his feet.

"Introducing Severus Snape, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Death Eater and Murderer, give him a big hand," Ginny whispered. Along with Seamus and Lavender Neville laughed though like the others he could see the tears she fought against, blinking them away and twisting her lips into a smile.

"I am a man of few words," Snape intoned, arms folded across his chest, "Unfortunate circumstances elevated me to this unlooked for position, but even so, I welcome the challenge and will do my utmost to uphold the true values and traditions of Wizarding society. I extend my heartfelt congratulations to those of you who have been deemed worthy to join us this year; your first step upon the long road to becoming witches and wizards."

"See you, Seamus," Neville waved. "You hardly ate a thing," he said turning to Ginny as they lingered at the Gryffindor table after the welcome feast recalling how she had chased her food around the plate with her fork but barely raised to her lips.

"I lost my appetite," Ginny replied as Neville waved to Luna who paused in the doorway, "Round about when Snape walked in."

"Anything I can do?" Neville.

"Nothing. What can we expect from a murderer," Ginny said as Professor Sprout bustled over.

"Come on now, move along," she chivvied.

"Professor," Neville began, "I hoped to ask you if you needed any extra help again this year?"

"Thank you, Neville," she replied, "too many students ignore the power of plants to concentrate on charming and changing things! Come and see me any evening this week and we can arrange a schedule like last year."

"Thank you, Professor," Neville said getting to his feet, "sorry for hanging around."

"Don't make a habit of it," Sprout warned. As he hurried to catch Luna he thought she sounded a little serious.

"Neville," Ginny said as she caught up with him, "quick thinking there."

He blushed, "I'd have asked the same tomorrow, but now seemed like a good time." He smiled. "Luna!"

"Did you see them all, all of them that weren't there," Luna said. "Only four Ravenclaws this year. The letters to all the Muggleborns were intercepted," she continued, "A friend of Daddy's found out and gave him all their names. He tries to keep an eye on them but they are going missing. they are going missing. One by one, the little children are disappeared. That's why you couldn't see them."

Thinking of the three new Gryffindors Neville could believe it, "it shouldn't be allowed," he said, "we the lucky purebloods, safe because of chance."

"Safe for now," Ginny said, as they reached the stairway where their paths spilt, "they've started on the Muggleborns but how long will it be before they turn to the half-bloods?"

Neville leaned back against the wall, "I don't know Ginny. What can we do?"

"Nothing," she replied, "If only Harry were here."

"He's not here, Ginny," Luna said, blunt, but not unkind, "and that's best for all of us."

"I know. Sorry I'm being such a sap."

"Well?" They turned to see Professor McGonagall, tight lipped and glaring from Luna to Ginny to Neville.

"We … er."

"Mr Longbottom," she said, "now is not the time to linger. You and Miss Weasley should get to your common room before curfew. You too, Miss Lovegood."

"Curfew?" Luna asked as though she had never heard the word.

"Curfew," McGonagall confirmed, "Pay attention to the notice board in your common rooms, it would do you no good to be caught out of place."

"Snape," Ginny grumbled, "he can't do that."

"He can and he has," the Professor replied folding her arms, "follow the rules Miss Weasley, it is my job to see that you all come to no harm."

"How can you stand it, Professor? Snape, I mean … he's a …" Ginny asked boldly. Neville felt his stomach flip as McGonagall peered over her spectacles at his friend.

"Because I must," she replied shortly, "and so must you. To your common rooms, now!"

"Why is she doing it," Ginny asked as they hurried up the stairs.

Neville cast a glance over his shoulder as they turned a corner. She was still there, arms folded but the expression on her face was tired and concerned.

Reminded of the look on his Gran's face when they had argued he replied, "to protect us."


	3. Muggle Studies

**Chapter 3: Muggle Studies**

The earth between Neville's fingers was cool and damp. As he piled it around its roots, the Flitterbloom reached its tendrils lazily in the air enjoying the sharp breeze that flowed from the high open window, a refreshing contrast to the warm moist atmosphere of greenhouse three. Humming softly to himself Neville heaped another double handful of earth into the pot.

Hearing footsteps, he smiled, "The Abyssinian Shrivelfigs are potted, Professor," he called, without turning. "and greenhouse one is ready for the first years in the morning."

"Neville!"

He jumped, scattering earth over his shoes. "Ginny," he said, turning, "What are you doing here?"

"You've got to come. Quickly!" she replied, grabbing his arm.

"Ow!" Neville protested, freeing his sleeve from her grip. "What is it?"

"Not here," Ginny said. "I …"

"Neville, did I hear you say the … why Miss Weasley," Professor Sprout said in surprise, as she stuffed a pair of large dirt-caked gloves into the pocket of her grubby robes. "As you're here would you help Neville carry those pots to the storeroom?"

"Yes, Professor," Ginny said, glaring at Neville.

"What have I done?" he asked, thinking her annoyance more than a little unfair. Shrugging off the incident he turned to business, "Professor Sprout, I'm a bit worried about the rash on the Mandrakes, their bottoms are beginning to get really scaly."

"I'll take a look," Sprout replied, looking sharply at Ginny, "Make yourself useful, girl," she said, "You know where the store room is!"

A sullen Ginny Weasley began to stack empty pots as Professor Sprout and Neville fell into deep conversation.

"Careful!" Sprout scolded as she banged them together.

"Sorry," Ginny replied ungraciously as she disappeared with the first pile of pots. As she returned Neville had the feeling that he would regret it later.

"I'm done here, professor," Ginny said eventually.

"Why thank you," Professor Sprout said, "Ten points for Gryffindor, I think! Why don't you run along, dear. I'm afraid Neville and I need to prepare a salve."

Neville opened his palms in a helpless gesture, silently relieved at he excuse.

"I'll see you before dinner, Neville," Ginny said, "Luna wanted to speak to you about something too."

"Luna?" Neville glanced at Professor Sprout. "Tell her I'll be there."

"We'll meet you by the front door," Ginny said.

"About time," Ginny said as Neville arrived.

Luna stood near the front door apparently trying to out-stare a suit of armour, she smiled as he joined them. "The doors won't close until eight," she told them, "That's what the notice said, but we'll have to miss dinner."

"Are you going to tell me what all this is about?" Neville asked thinking longingly of roast potatoes and still irked with Ginny's unreasonable demand that he drop everything and sneak off for a secret meeting.

"Not here," Ginny said, "We might be overheard. This way."

As he and Luna followed Ginny through the door and down the steps Neville wondered if perhaps she had been spending so much time with Luna that a little bit of paranoia had rubbed off on her, only four days into term.

They were halfway to Hagrid's hut before Ginny stopped near a twisted clump of brambles. From here there was a clear view of the whole hillside. No-one could sneak up and for anyone to overhear them they would have to be concealed within the bushes. Looking at the wicked thorns peeping out from between the small green leaves Neville thought that unlikely.

As Ginny surveyed the area, Neville watched as the wind whipped Luna's hair around her face. Even wrapped in her heavy coat he thought she looked cold and he was thankful that Ginny seemed satisfied with their location, waving them closer to a huddle.

"We had our first Muggle Studies lesson today," Ginny said. She pulled a folded pamphlet from her pocket and thrust it toward Neville. "Alecto Carrow, the razor voiced crone."

Slowly he unfolded the paper. "I have my first class tomorrow," Neville said, "But if her brother is anything to go by, I can imagine how much fun her classes are. I had Dark Arts yesterday."

"I don't think you can imagine, Neville," Luna said, taking the pamphlet from his hands, "you don't have it in you to think that way." She held it far away from her between her fingertips as if it were a smelly sock or a used and snotty handkerchief.

MAGIC AND MUDBLOODS: THE MYTH, the front page said. Below the pea green letters loomed a grotesque and scowling man; over his Muggle clothes were stretched ill-fitting blue wizarding robes and in his hand a wand was grasped. At his feet lay a slender witch, prone and naked clutching tightly to a pointed blue hat as the man tried to wrench it from her grip.

"The evil Mudblood stealing his magic from the helpless Pure Blood," Ginny spat. She drew her wand and the pamphlet burst into flame.

As they all jumped back Luna let go and together the three watched in silence as the burning parchment floated slowly to the ground between them, smouldering to dust on the hillside.

"We have to write twenty inches on how to recognise a Mudblood. We're not allowed to use the term Muggleborn now! Its Mudblood, or detention."

"When is it?" Neville asked.

"Tomorrow night," Luna said, "Two hours with Professor Carrow."

Neville looked at Ginny, "You too?"

"No, I kept quiet," she replied as if embarrassed, that she had not spoken up in class.

Doing what?" he pressed.

"She didn't say." Luna replied shaking her head; they could all remember Umbridge's idea of appropriate punishment and could only wonder at what an actual Death Eater would stoop to.

The next evening after dinner Ginny and Neville sat in the common room feeding scraps of parchment into the crackling fire.

"…they jumped over the fence just in time," Ginny related, "You should've seen Scrimgeour's face – the Minister for Magic gate crashing Harry's birthday party."

Neville laughed,

"He didn't seem too impressed with us – suspicious old cat. He left dad standing there and took Harry Ron and Hermione into the Burrow. Harry told me later that he read from Dumbledore's will - I wish I'd been a House Elf in the corner, he was looking really angry when they came out."

"What did Dumbledore leave them?"

"A deluminator for Ron, an old copy of the Tales of Beedle the Bard for Hermione and Gryffindor's sword for Harry – oh, and Harry's first snitch. I don't think Scrimgeour wanted them to have any of it, but the only thing he could stop them from keeping was the sword."

"Beedle! Do you remember the story of Emmeline Edward's Enchanted Espadrilles? Gran read it to me when one night when I was six – I wouldn't wear shoes for a week."

Ginny shook her head and laughed, "It must be very hard being you, Neville," she said, then her smile faded, "The funny thing is, the next day the Minister was dead and everything changed. Luna knows what it was like, she was there with her dad; nobody stuck around for very long, Harry and the others vanished immediately, they had it all planned."

"I'm sorry, Ginny," he said watching the dancing flames, "They'll be alright."

Ginny sighed. "I have to get to Slughorn's," she said matter of factly, "First meeting of the Slug Club this year," with a wink, she added, "I also thought it would be a good way to find out what's going on elsewhere!"

Neville leaned back in the winged armchair stretching his legs out before him he was just drifting off to sleep when Seamus plonked into the chair opposite.

"Listen to that," he said Demelza Robins was berating a first year for some minor or imagined misdemeanour, "even Granger at her most officious wasn't as shrill as she is. Which bright spark made that cow a prefect?"

Neville sat forward peering round the wing of his chair as the first year gave a great wail and ran from the common room. He turned to Seamus and spoke quietly, "I think McGonagall was careful not to pick anyone who was too involved with Dumbledore's Army, just in case Snape got any ideas."

"Summerby, one of the Hufflepuff Prefects told me that they have to attend meetings twice a week with the Head Boy and Girl. And another thing, what's that all about? Two more Slytherin Prefects!"

"Tipping the balance of power," Neville suggested, "All Houses are not equal."

"You may be right," Seamus yawned. "I'm going to the library before lock-in," he said, "You coming?"

"Why not," Neville decided, Robins upsetting the girl had shattered his peace and he thought that he would just have time to see how Luna had fared in Carrow's detention and get back to the Gryffindor tower before curfew fell.

When they reached the fourth floor, Neville made his excuses and as Seamus continued to the library he hurried down the stairs to the first floor.

"What ho!" a cheery voice called. Neville stopped and looked round.

"Sir Cadogan," he said, seeing the little knight peering from a nearby landscape, "you're not going to challenge me to a duel again are you?" as Cadogan's visor fell shut.

"No, no," the knight replied pushing back his visor. "will you join me in my quest?"

"Not meaning to be rude," Neville began, "But I don't have much time. Later, Sir Cadogan. Sorry." He strode quickly away trying to ignore the outraged protests that followed him down the hallway; "She needs our help! It is your duty!"

Neville slowed his pace as he approached the Muggle Studies classroom, suddenly nervous. Had he time to see Luna after her detention? Would he be caught by Carrow? Taking a deep breath he covered that last few feet to the half glazed classroom door.

Cautiously, he peered through the diamond panes; Professor Carrow was not there. All the desks were pushed back from the walls, the chairs stacked haphazardly on top, and in the middle of the room, tears streaming down her cheeks, Luna was dancing.

**Disclaimer:**

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Authors Notes:**

Muggle Studies began life as part of Chapter 2, it seemed more appropriate to shift these events into a Chapter of their own and move the original happenings from Chapter 3 elsewhere.

Hope you're all still enjoying.


	4. Muggle Studies Continued

Muggle Studies (continued)

The door was shut fast. Neville twisted and tugged the handle, vainly trying to rattle the lock open. "You wanted to do some good," he reminded himself out loud, "now's your chance!"

He stepped back, drawing his wand, and aimed it at the recalcitrant lock, "_Alohomora_!"

Unsure which astonished him more, his own confidence, or the fact that it worked first time, Neville moved.

"Luna!" he yelled as the door swung in smashing hard against the wall.

"I can't stop," she sobbed as she skipped in a large circle, bobbing up and down as if a large maypole stood in the middle of the room.

Neville's gaze fell from her flushed face and tangled hair to the battered scarlet pair of shoes that encased her feet, faster and faster, tapping their beat, "No!" he gasped in horror, wand held loose in his hand, "I'll get help!".

"Carrow is coming back," Luna said breathless, as she swung near, dipping under an imaginary ribbon as she passed.

She circled the room, once, twice and then inspired, Neville stepped forward. Tucking his wand in his waistband Neville grabbed Luna's waist with one arm as she passed, seizing her hand with his other, in, "I can't stop it Luna," he said drawing her into a waltz, "but I think I can slow it down."

Frenzied at first they span, Luna, arm around Neville trying to speed up, Neville trying to slow her down, one- two-three, one- two-three, one- two-three, one - two-three, one - two - three, one - two - three, one …

"Follow my lead!" he said as he struggled to maintain the pace. Luna looked up, her gaze oddly acquiescent then she slumped on to his shoulder.

"It works," Neville said, embracing both Luna and the challenge of following the correct steps whilst supporting her weight. "It must be a dance," he explained, enjoying the warm and pleasantly damp feeling of her breath against his neck "Now, I need you to stand, while we work out what to do. Copy my steps and don't let the shoes take control again."

"Alright," she said unevenly, "thank you."

"Its nothing," Neville said. Still holding her hand he led her forward, stalking the measured steps of a minuet, "Do you remember the story of Emmeline Edward, she cast a spell on her dancing shoes to make her the best but they wouldn't stop, she just went on and on dancing until she died and even then they couldn't fit her in a coffin because she wouldn't stop."

"And her body danced away into the Schwarzwald," Luna completed as they bowed and turned, "and she was never seen again."

"I think you're wearing them," Neville said.

Thoughtful, Luna gazed ahead, "Daddy thinks there is truth in everything Beedle wrote," she said, "This could make eating rather difficult – I wonder where Professor Carrow got them?"

"She's a Death Eater, her brother too. I suppose they have access to all sorts of Dark artefacts."

"I thought she was a teacher."

Neville relayed what Ginny had told him of Harry's story of the night on the Astronomy Tower, "they're not the only ones, either," he finished, "Malfoy, too."

"You should be careful, then," Luna said, "He threatened to get you."

"We should all be careful. I … what's that?"

They listened, footsteps growing louder and louder, "Carrow's coming," Luna concluded. "I'm sorry," Neville said. As soon he let her go the shoes reasserted control, he dived behind a teetering stack of chairs, catching Luna's wan smile as they carried her into a spin.

"Merlin!" he exclaimed thrusting his wand toward the door, causing the chairs to wobble alarmingly. The door swung shut followed by a series of loud clicks as lever after lever slipped back into place. Relieved, Neville squeezed further back, taking cover behind a swinging human skeleton that was suspended from the ceiling by a hook and chain; he hoped that its shadow would help to mask his own.

Through the skeleton's ribs Neville watched as the classroom door opened.

"Well, girl," Carrow said as Luna pirouetted around her, "I trust you have learned that it our tune you dance to."

Luna did not reply, every few seconds Neville caught a glimpse as she twirled between Carrow and his hiding place.

"I love to dance," Luna said at last, "I think the earth makes her own music."

"Spare me your delusions," Carrow spat, "Perhaps the pace has been too slow …" Neville saw the swirl of Carrow's robes. He knew she was going for her wand. Afraid of what was coming, he closed his eyes.

"I've never felt so free," Luna replied, though her sweat matted hair and tear stained face had told Neville a different story.

"Free!" Carrow cried, "You are free to do exactly as I please. No more! There may be hope for you, girl, listen to your blood, not to the lies you have been fed."

The light that filled the room was so bright that Neville opened his eyes. He feared that he must be discovered, but as the glow shimmered and faded he realised he was safe; not so Luna.

Professor Carrow now stood in the centre of the room, waving her wand as though conducting an invisible orchestra, though the only thing that moved under her direction was Luna. Neville's own wand lay useless in his palm; he was a failure, no hero.

"May I keep the shoes, Professor?" Luna asked.

Carrow's wand arm dropped to her side, her jaw reaching almost as low as Neville craned forward to see, peering now over the skeleton's shoulder.

"They're very comfortable," Luna continued.

Feet together she stood completely still before the flabbergasted Carrow, then she raised her arms in the air, parting her feet in defiance, "I like to dance, Professor," she added, poised to begin, "to dance as slow, or as fast as I will."

As she spoke she began to dance, on the spot as if over invisible swords. Only Luna's back was visible to Neville, but he could imagine the look of triumph on her face; it was a dance of war.

"No!" Carrow shrieked the word. The old red shoes on Luna's feet burst into fierce red flames but she did stop until the blaze subsided; Luna's knees buckled then, and she collapsed heavily to the floor.

"You have chosen, girl," Carrow accused, turning and walking toward the door as if Luna were now beneath her concern, "like all those who oppose us, you will die."

"We will all die," Luna said, Neville knew that she was too exhausted to even raise her head, but oh, the passion in her for finding the energy to defy Carrow.

Without turning back, Carrow meted out the last of that day's punishment, "Clear up this room before you return to your common room, and report to me before breakfast. Then I will test your wand to ensure that you have not used magic; you do not deserve to use such power."

The walls shook as the door slammed behind Professor Carrow.

Neville burst past the skeleton and sent the stack of chairs clattering about the classroom, "Luna," he said skidding to his knees as he dropped his wand, drawing her into his arms, "Are you alright? I'm here."

She turned her head to him, cheek resting against his stomach, "I knew you were there for me," she said, then her lips parted into a smile that brought new life to her weary eyes.

"You were amazing," Neville said, "an amazing idiot!"

"It was your idea," Luna replied weakly, "You showed me how to control the spell."

"That was luck," Neville said, though it was no coy attempt at modesty.

"You don't think like other wizards," she said, still smiling as Neville brushed her hair back from where the sweat plastered it to her brow, "no flash and bluster, just example. Its like how Harry taught us, all those years ago."

"I'm not like Harry," Neville said fighting the sudden and inexplicable feelings of jealousy that threatened to mar the moment, "if I was more like him …"

"You'd be less like Neville," Luna said.

"I would," Neville returned her smile but pulled his gaze away from hers; the desks were stacked haphazardly near the walls and he had added to the chaos in his urgency to reach her.

"Curfew, Neville," Luna said, struggling to get to her feet.

"Lie there," he said, shaking his head. Neville shrugged off his robe, wrapping it into a ball. As he wriggled back, trying not to drop her the few inches to the floor he tucked the bundle under her head. She closed her eyes. "Forget curfew, its long passed. How can she expect you to move all this?" he said, squatting on his haunches, "Without magic?" but he already knew the answer; Carrow wanted Luna to fail so that she could impose a more cruel penalty.

Neville pushed himself to his feet. Retrieving his wand he turned to Luna, "What charm can I use to tidy up?" he asked.

"Hopeless!" Luna said, "try _ordene._"

"I'm sorry," he said following her suggestion. Around him the fallen furniture righted itself and the stacked desks began to unpile and move back into place, almost. "I'd make a terrible husband."

"That depends," Luna replied, still not opening her eyes.

Neville toured the classroom uprighting inverted desks and straightening chairs. He stopped behind the teacher's desk, and gazed down the central aisle to where Luna lay in the hard wooden floor as if in sleep.

He had a trick up his sleeve, a charm that Ginny had mentioned. Seized by an uncharacteristic urge to try it out he waved his wand an whispered softly; if it didn't work, no one would ever know he had tried and if it was successful, it would be the talk of Hogwarts tomorrow.

**Disclaimer: **

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Author's notes:**

I feel that I short-changed you all a little on the last chapter. Not long after I started writing Chapter 4 I realised that I was actually still writing Chapter 3. Instead of being Glass Houses, the original Chapter 4, this is a continuation of Muggle Studies. That will all be corrected, amalgamated and generally brought together when I finish and do the re-write.

I'm not 100 happy with the interaction between Neville and Luna in this Chapter, also, I seem to be suffering from some very wooden phrasing this week. My Beta issues are still ongoing, although I have received a very kind offer from **Linwe Elendil** which I hope to follow up this weekend!

As ever, your feedback and support are appreciated.


	5. Glass Houses

Glass Houses

With great regret Neville had watched the door of the Ravenclaw common room close behind Luna. As he stared into the eagle's face in the centre of the door his earlier confidence turned to gloom. The doorknocker stared back, unblinking, but Neville thought with an undeniably smug twist to its beak, rather like Snape had looked at the welcome feast. He turned away. At the top of the wrong wing of the castle after curfew in the dark was not the wisest place to be. Neville did not risk lighting his wand. Instead he made his way cautiously along dark hallways and up and down shadowy stairways, wishing with each step for an invisibility cloak.

"Sir Knight!" a familiar voice called in an exaggerated whisper. "Here! Here!"

Neville stopped. In the light of a half moon that trickled weakly through a high mullioned window, Neville could see the first of a row of portrait frames. Glaringly out of place in a plush drawing room crammed with sleeping silk clad ladies stood Sir Cadogan. Neville stepped up to the painting.

"I'll guide your way," Sir Cadogan said, attempting a bow. His effort was rewarded with a hail of shoes thrown by the ladies. "This way."

"Thank you," Neville said, as Cadogan went ahead, checking each corner and doorway as best he could for Prefects, teachers and Filch. "I'm no knight."  
"Pish!" Cadogan replied. "I bore witness to a famous rescue!"

"It was luck."

Cadogan came to an abrupt halt. He faced Neville, face pinched and angry inside his helmet. "Do you seek greater praise by this denial?" he asked loudly

"No, I just don't think I did anything special," Neville explained, wishing that Cadogan would keep his voice down.

"But you are young," Cadogan conceded, features resuming their geniality, "and unused to glory. Times were when one knew who to trust."

"I'm trying to do the right thing," Neville protested. "Glory has nothing to do with it."

"Ah, in the … Hush!" Sir Cadogan raised a warning hand and crept rather noisily to the end of the picture frame. For a moment his head and shoulders passed out of sight then, but then he drew back. "Flee!" he said as if all the Death Eaters in the land were massed around the corner. "Flee!"

As a leg appeared Neville sank back behind a pillar, not waiting to see who it belonged to.

"Do you think its funny frolicking through the corridors at night?" It was Malfoy.

"Stand, sir," Cadogan challenged. "My name is Sir Cadogan, I will have yours."

"What are you going to do if I don't tell you? Follow me?"

"Impudent cur, I'll …"

"You'll what? Wave your little scribbled sword in the air? Have the portrait of the Alchemists throw their painted crucibles at me?"

"A duel, sir!" Cadogan blustered. "A fight for …"

"Shut up," Malfoy threatened, "before I take my wand and blast your portrait off the wall. Merlin knows why its there in the first place."

"Forgive me," Neville muttered under his breath as Sir Cadogan began what he thought might become a lengthy reply to Malfoy's insult.

Hurriedly, he retraced his steps and chose a different route up the stairway that emerged on the seventh floor beside a suit of armour. At last Neville saw the portrait of the Fat Lady. She lay restless on a heap of pillows, her arm thrown dramatically across her forehead.

"Purity," Neville whispered, thinking that if she fretted any more the pillows would swallow her.

Without speaking, the Fat Lady turned her back to him and snuggled deeper into her pillow, but the portrait swung open.

"I've made it," Neville breathed, sloughing off the skin of strain that the evening had stretched over his bones. The welcoming glow of the fire was ahead of him, and tomorrow was another day. Neville emerged into the common room.

"Where do you think you've been?"

A scattering of students was there in ones and twos, their heads turned with interest as Ritchie Collins' words slammed into Neville. Demelza Robins, the other Gryffindor prefect, sat at the table, apparently content to observe from a distance.

"Just back from the library, Ritchie," Neville lied, aware that he had nothing resembling a book with him.

"Are you familiar with the school rules?" Collins asked.  
"I've had six years to get to know them," Neville replied. This was one night he was not going to tolerate trouble from any source. "Was there something you wanted to know?"

Collins' lip curled. "Curfew began over an hour ago. The library is closed. Tell me where you have been."

"I must have been sleepwalking," Neville shrugged.

"Do you know who I am?" Ritchie asked.

Neville thought him an amateur bully compared to what he had witnessed earlier that evening. "I know who you were," he replied. "Last year. Who are you now, Ritchie?"

"He can't talk to you like that." Robins scraped back her chair as she got to her feet.

"Hi, Demelza," Neville said. She did not reply.

"We have instructions to report anyone out after curfew," Ritchie said pulling a small notebook from a pocket inside his robes.

"And troublemakers," Robins added. She handed Ritchie a small, silver-nibbed quill.

"Well that makes everything all right," Neville said, walking between them towards the archway that led to the dormitories. "You can always claim you were following orders."

"Come back here!" Ritchie demanded.

"How is Malfoy?" he asked. "Or do your 'instructions' come from Professor McGonagall?"

"It doesn't matter where they come from," Demelza said hotly. "They're the rules."

"Doesn't it?" Neville asked, turning back to them. "I'm in the Gryffindor Common Room. Give me an order from McGonagall, and I'll take it. She's the Head of my house, but bring me an order from a Death Eater…"

The splatter of rain against the high narrow windows was audible in the silence that washed over the common room. In the hearth a log splattered and hissed as though a few drops of rain had reached the fire. With a thud and a crackle it shifted in the grate, sending a burst of ash and sparks up the chimney.

"Tell me again that it doesn't matter," Neville said, painfully aware that every eye in the room was upon him.

"Draco said some of them would be like this because they'd been passed over," Demelza said to Ritchie, dismissively, but her words were loud enough for the whole common room to hear.

"Jealousy is really ugly, Longbottom," Collins said. "Just because you weren't chosen to be a Prefect."

"Complacency is much worse," Neville replied. "If you're both quite finished, I'd like to go to bed."

"I'm not going to stand for this," Demelza said. "They're the rules." Something about the way she repeated those words made Neville wonder who she was trying to convince. "You'll bring this house down with that sort of attitude, and we'll all pay for it – we have to keep safe."

"Now you're suggesting I keep my head down?" Neville asked, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I've tried that and nobody's any safer. Have you stopped to ask yourself why?"

"You're on report," Ritchie said flipping open his notebook, the little quill poised in his hand. "The Head Boy and Girl will hear of this. Probably the Headmaster too."

"On report?" Neville asked as Collins wrote. Seemingly he was not as familiar with the school rules as he had thought.

"That's a week," Collins said. Robins nodding her support. He continued, "Free periods not spent in the library or with a teacher must be passed in the common room under our supervision, no exceptions. Straight back here after meals, too. And don't think you can get away with not complying," he added, shoving the page under Neville's nose, "until this ink fades." Collins snapped his notebook closed.

"Shall I remember that when they come for you?" Neville asked, rubbing his fingers over the lumpy surface of the single gold galleon in his pocket. "Do you really think your blood will protect you?"

_Dumbledore's Army,_ he thought. _Harry would not have stood for this._

"That's the way it is," Collins said. "Orders of the Head Boy and Girl. The Headmaster has sanctioned it."

"We're only doing our job Neville," Robins said, apologetically. "There's nothing we can do about it."

"Keep telling yourself that," Neville replied and walked away.

* * *

"_Finite Incantatem! FINITE!"_

The repeated shriek rattled the windows of the highest tower in Hogwarts.

"_FINITE INCANTATEM!" _

Ignoring the protests of Professor Binns, the seventh years spilled out of the History of Magic classroom. Running along the first floor corridor, robes hitched up around her knees, they saw Alecto Carrow shrieking and dodging as a large and heavy oak chair hurled itself at her head.

"_FINITE INCANTATEM!"_ she screamed again, but the spell seemed only to increase the vigour with which the chair attacked.

"Would you look at that," Seamus said nudging Neville. "That's got to hurt. What happened?" he asked the first year at the front of the knot that crowded in the doorway of the Muggle Studies classroom.

"Wow!" Neville said to no one in particular, turning away as amazed as the rest of the growing crowd.

"I want every wand checked!" Carrow's scream echoed down the corridor followed by a loud splintering crack. "EVERY WAND!"

All of a sudden Neville felt sick, a quick test and they would all know what he had done. He'd be expelled at the very least. He pushed through the crowd, anxious to get to a place where he could think. "Greenhouse Eight," he muttered. "Greenhouse Eight."

In the commotion nobody noticed him slipping away.

_Greenhouse Eight,_ he thought, as he paced along the seventh floor corridor near to the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy. _Just next to greenhouse four with the connecting door concealed behind the _venomous tentacular

If anyone had seen him, they would have thought him mad. Hogwarts had no Greenhouse Eight, particularly not on the seventh floor, but Neville knew a secret or two about Hogwarts. He knew about the things that did not appear or even exist until you thought of them.

Neville smiled. There in the wall opposite the tapestry was the little door that led to the Room of Requirement.

He pushed it open and stepped into a lushly populated greenhouse. Colourful blooms twisted out from between fat foliage and butterflies vied with imps and doxies for nectar. Neville's feet crunched along the winding gravel path that meandered through the garden, and every now and then he bent to examine a specimen as he headed toward the far wall, through which he could see tentacles rubbing lazily against the glass and a class of students being shown mandrakes by Professor Sprout.

Tentatively, Neville turned the wrought iron handle pushing the door open very slightly

"… is why the Mandrake's scream is fatal," Sprout explained as the always inquisitive _venomous tentacular_ sent an exploratory tentacle to investigate the sudden change of air. Quietly, Neville closed the door.

Not even Professor Sprout could imagine this particular place. He had been coming here for the last year when he needed to clear his head, which was often. The doorway to Greenhouse Four was a new addition. Neville smiled, realising that he created shortcut from the seventh floor all the way down to the greenhouses.

"I wonder if I can get in from the other side," he said, aware that he would never get the chance again once Carrow found him out, but there was a class going on so that experiment would have to wait.

Sadly Neville flipped over a terracotta plant pot and sat down. He pulled out his cherry wood wand, wishing that he still had his father's own wand. He could have switched them and no one would have known who cast the hex. But Frank Longbottom's wand had been broken by a Death Eater in the battle in the Ministry of Magic.

Neville sighed. He was in trouble. He had two choices – to hide here for the rest of his life or to get on with it and, if necessary, face his punishment. Knowing Carrow, it would be something quite horrible.

Resolved, Neville left his refuge and emerged into the empty seventh floor corridor. He'd have to hurry to make it on time. Setting off at a brisk pace, Neville turned the corner.

"What are you doing up here?" Demelza Robins was glaring at him.

He thought quickly. He was on the seventh floor, near to the common room and out when he should be on the first floor packing his History of Magic textbooks away. "I left my wand in the tower," he confessed. "I didn't need it for History of Magic, but I have Charms next … Binns let me out early so I could get it.""

Neville tried to look innocent as Demelza checked in a little notebook just like the one Ritchie Collins had used the night before.

"All right, Neville," she said. "But hurry up. There's been some trouble, and the Carrows are on the warpath."  
"What happened?" he asked.

"I don't have time to gossip," Demelza replied, scribbling a note. "You're just lucky I caught you and not one of the others. Don't cut class again."

She tore it out and handed it to him.

Permission to retrieve wand from Gryffindor Tower, signed D.R.

"Thanks, Demelza," he said, too relieved to feel guilty about his deception.

"Ah, Mr. Longbottom," Professor Flitwick said, as Neville arrived a few minutes late in the Charms classroom. "Late to your first lesson of the year. Not a very good start."

"Sorry, sir," Neville said, taking the vacant desk next to Seamus Finnegan.

"Where did you get to?" Seamus whispered. He pointed sharply at the stack of books on Neville's desk. "You owe me for carrying them!"

"Thanks. I forgot my wand this morning," Neville lied.

"You'd forget your head if it wasn't screwed on," Seamus laughed. "Beats History of Magic, though. You missed a real show. It all started whe …"

"I am sorry to say that the Headmaster has insisted that before our lesson I must check each of your wands," Flitwick interrupted.

Neville and Seamus exchanged worried glances and fell silent. "Many of you witnessed an unfortunate incident earlier today that resulted in serious injury to a teacher. Impressive though such wandwork may be, I must make you aware of the seriousness of such occurrences. Be warned, if any incriminating evidence is found, Professor Carrow wants the culprit punished. Would you please form a line at my desk."

"Touchy old hag," Seamus muttered. "Who hasn't been hit with the odd Jelly Legs or Flying Chair?"

"Yeah," Neville said,, automatically getting to his feet and joining the queue.

"It started when she said Mudblood," Seamus said as they waited in line. "She was sitting down, and the chair shot back from under her. One of the first years told me.

She had a right go at them saying she'd hex the ears of whoever did it. Like a first year could do that!"

But Neville wasn't really listening. He was standing in a queue and each time he moved up a place, he grew closer and closer to his fate. He felt sick again and a little hot and too cold all at the same time, an unsettling sensation that grew stronger as he moved to the front of the classroom.

In front of Neville, Susan Bone's wand revealed a cheering charm and a locator spell. Flitwick handed the wand back to Susan, and she sat down. It was Neville's turn.

Neville's throat was dry as he laid his wand on Flitwick's desk. He could hear nothing but the blood in his ears beating and beating. He reached out, holding the edge of the desk for support.

"Are you ill?" Flitwick asked as he picked up Neville's wand.

Unable to speak, Neville shook his head.

"_Prior Incantato,"_ Flitwick said, waving his own wand. "Well what is this?" the Professor asked with real curiosity as the telltale wisps emerged from the tip of Neville's wand.

Neville was caught. His legs seemed reluctant to support him. For a moment his vision blurred. Then he found himself confronted by Flitwick's piercing dark gaze. To Neville's amazement, the Professor winked.

"Everything seems to be in order here," Flitwick said, handing the wand back to Neville.

* * *

"Why didn't you tell me?" Ginny asked peevishly.

"I hadn't planned to do it," Neville replied. They sat in the corner of the common room on either side of a small wooden table. Books lay open between them, but neither Neville nor Ginny were using the time to study. Here, in the spot furthest from the fire, their conversation was least likely to be overheard.

A lively buzz of chatter filled the room for the first time that year, followed by laughter as a first year boy who Neville recognised as Michael Brydon chased a friend between the battered armchairs and over the thick red carpet with a spindly chair held high above his head.

"Can't stop me with magic!" Michael giggled, "Can't stop me!"

"Reminds me of Harry and Ron," Ginny smiled. "How did you get away with it?"

"That's the incredible thing." Neville twisted in his seat away from the room as he related his unlikely encounter with Professor Flitwick.

"I knew the teachers couldn't be part of this!" Ginny said, triumphantly.

"They're just trying not to upturn the cauldron," Neville said. "For our protection. These are not nice people we're dealing with."

"Neville, that is the best description yet of Death Eaters – not nice people!" she lowered her voice to a whisper. "And Voldemort? What's he? A bit of a cad?"

"That's not what I meant, Ginny."

"I know! But do you realise what this means?"

"I think you're about to tell me."

"The right teachers are on our side, and, if we're careful, we can get away with anything. Just think. If half of the school uses that hex, Carrow and Co. will not be able to isolate any one culprit. She can crawl to Snape all she likes, but even he can't expel half of the school. How would that look to his master?"

"You have a point," Neville admitted reluctantly, leaning back as comfortably as he could on the wooden chair. Near the fireplace, Ritchie Collins was loudly berating the first year boys for mocking a teacher. He had his little notebook and quill at the ready.

"Yeah," Neville said, "when Gryffindor prefects are acting like Slytherin bullies and taking orders from Malfoy, something has gone astray."

"Not all of them," Ginny said. "Look."

Neville saw Demelza Robins had just come down from the dormitories, a large book clutched to her chest. She paused for a moment watching Collins, then turned away.

"It's a start," Neville said. She was hardly making a stand. "Remember this, Ginny?" Neville asked drawing his galleon out of his pocket.

Ginny nodded. "Those were the days."

"They're not over yet. Do you still have yours?"

"I think so."

"Find it. Will you see Luna tomorrow?"

"I think so. After Quidditch tryouts."

"Ask her if she has hers, and if you find yours, keep it with you."

"Do you have a plan, Neville?" Ginny asked.

"Not really. But this is our responsibility, all of ours, not just the Muggleborn's and not just Harry's. Things are going dangerously wrong, Ginny. The hope is draining out, and if someone doesn't do something soon, there'll be nothing left to fight for. This was one day we've won, but tomorrow we could be back where we started. Saving wizarding society is not our job, Ginny, but saving Hogwarts is. This is the start of it. We're going to send a message that Hogwarts is not lost. That no matter how many Death Eaters Snape packs the school with, we will not accept it."

Author's notes:

Some of you may notice a rather marked improvement in punctuation this chapter. I haven't suddenly unlearned bad habits, but I have had the assistance of the remarkable JLHufflepuff. While you're waiting for the next chapter here I'd recommend popping over to her profile and joining Scorpius Malfoy at Hogwarts in _Visions of Greatness._

_ Edit 24th August 2007: _I've had to add lines between scenes in order to counter this site's inability to keep the correct format. Sorry for those of you who were confused by the scene transition._  
_

Disclaimer:

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.


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